Holy hell, I’m less than 3 weeks away to the end of this project?
I’m writing this at 8.25A.M., in the little window available to me while the chicken that will be my breakfast/lunch sits in the oven. In a few minutes, I will get dressed, go downstairs, check if the chicken is cooked, and proceed accordingly with either more cooking or breakfast.
If I walk down the stairs and a nuclear war breaks out, that’d be a real shame. I was looking forward to that chicken.
These are dark days.
In the 50 days in between this post and “Saturday”, the world has changed – not by much, but it tilted on its axis. Everything shifted ever so slightly to the left. Gravity has displaced itself by a couple of centimeters. My room remains my room, but somewhere in the world, there are lives that will never be the same.
In the past 50 days, a Malaysian aircraft was shot out of the sky with a missile. 300 people died. The Russian government doesn’t seem to be taking any action, and it seems as though the Western governments are ready to take drastic actions against Russia the longer they wait. It’s almost like they’ve been waiting.
In the past 50 days, the longtime conflict between Israel and Palestine has blown way out of proportion. Missiles have hit central Israel. In retaliation, Israel has invaded Gaza with 40,000 foot soldiers. Both sides and their supporters are screaming for blood. Human blood. Like the old gods that we condemned and shelved away and buried, they are asking for a blood sacrifice to appease their wrath.
In the past 50 days, two teenagers lured a friend to their house – not a stranger, a friend – and stabbed her, because they were trying to get the attention of the fictional entity known as Slenderman, created out of a message board between users who were trying to out-scare each other. A boy, on account of “being a 22-year old virgin”, drove around in a BMW and started shooting people on sight.
If you asked me, the world is going to hell. There’s no tactful way to say it.
Sunday is church day. Sunday is God-devotion day. Sunday is our sabbath, where we will not put our hands to work. Sunday is the day I actually spend time meditating upon the words and values of God, and more often than not, I get a little insight on how I should be able to live my life a little bit better. How I can get along with others just a little bit better.
Sunday is the day of right set wrong. Sunday is the day to act as children of God, if you haven’t been doing that all week. Sunday is the day of cleansing of lips and hearts, of rededication to our maker. To understand that He is in control, even if we don’t understand it, even if the circumstances strongly suggests otherwise.
Sometimes Sunday is the day of hard messages. There are things said from the pulpit that I cannot bring myself to swallow.
But God is, well, God. And His ways are higher than ours. How can we hope to understand the ways of the Almighty with our limited minds that we have only just begun to figure out how to use?
This is Sunday. A day to converse with God.
So dear God, hear my prayer:
Let there be peace on earth, and among every human heart.